Page 62 of Playing for Keeps

Finally I said, “I was talking to Simon earlier.”

Max turned his head to me, his eyes warm and focused. “Yeah?”

“I told him that I want to see where this goes. With us.”

That stupidly handsome boyish grin of his grew wider, and for a second I almost stopped there. But that wouldn’t be fair to him. So I kept going. “But I also told him that I might leave. Eventually. And the last thing I want to do is break your heart.”

His smile went away like I had turned off a light, but he didn’t look away. He never did.

“I know,” he said quietly. His hand tightened into a fist on the table for half a beat before he reached for me. “I’ve always known. But, Em?” His voice got rougher, as if he had to drag the words out of him. “I’m not stopping.”

“Max…”

He leaned in and crossed the small space between us at the table, wrapping his big hand around mine. His thumb slowly brushed over my knuckles.

“You don’t have to protect me from this,” he said. “From us. I’m all in. But if you… if you do leave, I need you to tell me. Don’t just disappear on me.”

I looked at him – really looked – at those serious eyes, that reckless determination, and nodded. “Just be careful with your feelings, okay? Promise me that much.”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile; it was more like affection laced with defiance. “You know I won’t.”

Max gave my hand a quick squeeze and then slid out of the booth to pay at the bar. His shoulders were broad under his jacket, and when the barman clapped him on the back and said, “Hell of a game anyway, mate,” Max tilted his head back easily. He just smiled and said thanks.

We were silent for a moment when he sat down again, brushing his thumb over my hand, absent-mindedly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and I meant it. “You?”

“More than okay.” His fingers moved slowly across my skin in a pattern that wasn’t entirely coincidental. I could feel it all the way up my arm. When he looked at me, the dim light from the bar caught the curve of his mouth, and it was absurd how simple it was to forget what we had just discussed.

I whispered, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Even though his voice was quiet, there was something in it that caused my heart to race.

“Like you already know what you’re doing.”

He gave a faint smile. “Maybe I do.” He pulled back first, but his hand stayed in mine as we stood up to leave.

The air outside was so chilly that it hurt my ears, so I pulled down my woollen hat a little lower. Cars hissed over wet pavement, a taxi honked, and someone laughed too loudly further up as the city went on around us. Max took my hand again on the sidewalk, and our fingers fit together perfectly.

He hit my shoulder with his. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?”

“Oh God, do I really want to know?”

He smiled wickedly. “That thing you said about your biggest turn-on.”

I pretended to be thinking. “I’ve said a lot.”

He squeezed my hand. “About being pinned against a wall.”

“Why? Do you want to give it a try?”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking onto mine with a mix of surprise and challenge, as if daring me to follow through on my suggestion. “Do I– Em.”

But I was already pulling him off the main road, past a closed flower shop and down a narrow side street where the lights above a back door washed the pavement in a soft haze. The alley was quiet and sheltered from the wind, and I leaned back against a brick wall.

Max laughed, incredulous. “You’re going to be the end of me.”